Points
by seasonofthepumpkin
Summary: Night in the mansion... a night that none of these three will forget for a very long time. JENOVA's trickery runs rampant, and the mansion itself seems to be alive and plotting...


Points  
  
Part One  
  
Author Notes: Yes, yet another Vincent/Lucrecia/Hojo triangle with all that angsty goodness. I am aware that there are a million of these, and I myself have written more than one already, but what can I say? I'll keep beating that dead horse 'til my fingers start bleeding on the keyboard. I just can't leave well enough alone.   
  
This will probably be more of a horror story than my previous works. Really creepy and mind-bending stuff going down in the mansion, courtesy of JENOVA... I'm not entirely sure where this goes next but so far it's writing itself. Maybe JENOVA's manipulating me as well now... Scary thought.   
  
You may also notice that it ties into 'Deviation of a Theme'. I did that on purpose, so Deviation just delves deeper into what Vincent was thinking about after he was shot. Seemed like the thing to do at the time, so I'm sorry for any confusion.   
  
This doesn't really tie into anything other than that. Just another spin on my usual. Hope you like it.  
  
By the way, I am considering taking requests for fanfiction. If you have anything you'd like to see me write, let me know in the reviews, and I will do my best to write it for you. :P  
  
~ Rene (seasonofthepumpkin)  
  
  
  
***  
  
The mansion was already cold tonight with the promise of becoming even colder.  
  
Quiet footsteps could be heard tapping in the hallway, tapping their  
  
way to the inevitable as if possessed.  
  
Vincent's heart sank as padded down the hall to her room.  
  
Yet another night had passed, and she remained firm in her decision.  
  
He now realized she would likely never agree to flee here with him.   
  
All the crying and cajoling on the planet would never sway her.  
  
And yet he pressed on.  
  
As awful as it seemed, he had initially believed her to  
  
be a rather weak-willed person. How else could she stay with that  
  
cold bastard of a husband that she clearly felt nothing but pity and   
  
responsibility for? How could someone with an ounce of will  
  
agree to the things she'd agreed on?   
  
He'd been shocked to discover that she was indeed a very stubborn person in her own  
  
way. They'd had this talk almost every night for a week, and yet she would not concede.  
  
He vaguely wondered why he even bothered, but he knew why. He loved her.   
  
He had to make her see, before it was too late.  
  
He rapped quietly at the door. It swung open of its own accord. She must have not pushed   
  
it to after coming in. She sat in her chair, engrossed in some book, probably   
  
one of her novels she enjoyed so much. He cleared his throat and she looked up.  
  
"Vincent..." she smiled weakly, closing the book. "Come in before someone  
  
sees you standing out there."   
  
Shutting the door behind him he stood there for a moment just looking at her.  
  
She looked worse than ever, her hair thrown haphazardly into a ponytail,   
  
her face paler than he'd ever remembered. On closer examination he noticed   
  
that the rings around her eyes had not left; if anything they were even darker  
  
as if she hadn't slept in weeks.  
  
She didn't look to be five months pregnant; there was none of that bloom  
  
that pregnant women usually had about them to be found anywhere near her.  
  
Her arms were like pale sticks, now wrapped protectively around her barely  
  
protruding stomach.   
  
If anything she reminded him of a flower that had blanched from lack of sun.   
  
"I... I wanted to check on you," he faltered, the memory of earlier  
  
that day burnt into his brain. "I was worried..."  
  
"I feel a bit better now... Nothing's hurt."  
  
How could she dismiss something so serious that way? He'd been  
  
there and seen it all from his post in the hall. She'd been talking with  
  
Professor Hojo one moment as if nothing was wrong, and then the colour  
  
drained from her face all at once and she had slumped over   
  
like a puppet with no strings to hold it up. Without even  
  
thinking twice he'd rushed into the room and scooped her up, ignoring Hojo's  
  
snarls to let his wife be. He'd carried her back to her room,  
  
his heart pounding so hard he thought he would die.   
  
"Lucrecia, it's not a good sign to just fall over like that in mid-sentence. You could have  
  
hit your head on something, or crushed the baby..."   
  
"...it's nothing really. I feel much better now, it was just a fluke..."  
  
"A fluke?! It's only a fluke if there is no reason for  
  
it to happen! There ::is:: however, plenty of reasons for it! Those injections, for one!  
  
You know they make you ill, yet you continue to let him give them to you...."  
  
"Vincent..." Her voice was tight. Everything about her seemed tight, as if she'd been  
  
sucked dry of all her flavour and vitality and was desperate not to let whatever  
  
remained escape.   
  
"You're mad, you know that?" Vincent shook his head in disbelief as his lover sat in  
  
the chair with her head bowed in silence. "You'll wind up dead or worse if you stay here  
  
with that madman... Lucrecia, listen to me!" He groaned in frustration,  
  
and dropped to his knees to better see her face. Taking her face in his  
  
hands he kissed her forehead gently and continued to speak.  
  
"I can't stand here and watch him do this to you any longer, Lucrecia.  
  
It makes me ill to watch you take those injections like some sort  
  
of laboratory mouse. Think about the baby, Lucrecia... If you  
  
won't think of yourself and you won't think of me, think of that  
  
child growing inside of you... the one that your husband is  
  
poisoning while you stand by idly and let it happen."  
  
She pushed his hands away, refusing to look up. "Vincent, I've  
  
told you that I can't leave! Why do you have to turn this into  
  
something more than it is!? Don't you think I would leave  
  
if I could...?" With this she started to break down, silent little sobs   
  
wracking her body.   
  
"...you could leave, Lucrecia. I've told you that. You have  
  
no ties here that can't be easily snipped..." Vincent felt badly,   
  
as he always did when this inevitable 'talk' came up. It always  
  
ended the same way too, with her in tears and him feeling   
  
like an ass. A concerned ass maybe, but an ass no doubt.  
  
"N-no ties, you say? What about my husband, Vincent?! I still wear his  
  
ring, we are still bound by marriage! And even if he agreed to divorce,   
  
which he never would, I still wouldn't be able to leave! I would play the same  
  
role as now, only sleeping in a different bed. Do you think that he would let  
  
me leave with the baby? The injections have already begun... There is no  
  
way that ShinRa would allow for me to up and run now..."  
  
Vincent winced. She was right, of course. There was no way that the ShinRa  
  
would let her walk out of here with a womb full of Jenova cells. They had invested  
  
too much into the project to ever allow that. But he was still convinced running was the  
  
answer to all their problems. He had to get her away from here, no matter the cost.  
  
"Look... I know it sounds impossible,   
  
but it can be done. There are ways to lose yourself. It's possible for  
  
a person to disappear without a trace. I've seen it done many times...  
  
Don't worry about ShinRa, don't worry about Hojo. Let's just go before it's too  
  
late to do anything. The baby will come in a few short months, and by then  
  
we can be married and settled in a new home where no one knows us--" He   
  
trailed off, knowing that  
  
she would not be persuaded that he was just wasting his breath. Nothing would  
  
come of his pleas, nothing ever did. He was just ripping his heart open for  
  
no reason as far as he was concerned. Had it been anyone or anything  
  
else he'd have given up long ago.   
  
But he could never give up on Lucrecia. Nothing could ever make  
  
him do that. She was his sunshine, his heart and soul, his everything.  
  
And even though she belonged to another he felt confident that  
  
her heart belonged to him.   
  
It wasn't lack of love for him that made her hesitate, nor was it  
  
guilt for her actions. It was fear, plain and simple. And that bothered him.   
  
He could understand her being afraid, but he couldn't believe she  
  
would let it hold her back from doing what was right. She acted as if  
  
she would face everything alone. Could she not see that he was here?  
  
Did she not believe all the promises he made? Where they but meaningless and  
  
empty words to her? God he hoped not.   
  
"Lucrecia... I know you're going to say no. You've said it  
  
everytime I ask you this... but I'm going to ask you again   
  
anyway. Won't you listen to me...? God..." And here he broke  
  
down as well, frustrated and hurt beyond belief by her   
  
rejection. "I love you... I hope you know that, and I think   
  
you do, but I love you so much... if you die like this,  
  
I will never forgive myself. If you die I will curse myself to the end  
  
of my days because I could have saved you. Why won't you let me   
  
save you, Lucrecia? Are you too proud to be saved, or are you   
  
too scared...? Please, answer me..." Tears slipped down his cheeks  
  
unbearably hot and salty.   
  
Lucrecia shook her head numbly. All of his promises...  
  
"I... I want to go... I do... But I'm s-so scared  
  
Vincent... I'm afraid for you, I'm afraid for me...  
  
I just don't know what to do anymore..."  
  
Silence held the room in its coldly smooth fingers for a long moment.  
  
Then, she spoke again.  
  
"I will do it."   
  
Vincent looked at her in disbelief. Had she finally understood? In an  
  
instant he was embracing her, whispering reassurances and even  
  
more promises. Tears still fell, but they no longer stung  
  
and burnt.   
  
"We can do it tonight, Lucrecia... Tonight we can put this all away."  
  
"...tonight..." she whispered, the word settling on her tongue like a foreign spice,   
  
utterly delicious with all that it implied. Tonight she would be free.  
  
"Yes, tonight. Get your things ready and I will meet you in front of the mansion   
  
at midnight. We will walk out the front door and put this all behind us where it   
  
belongs." He pushed an errant strand of hair out of her face, dismayed by   
  
the dryness of it. He couldn't bear seeing her like this, and the sooner   
  
they left the sooner she would hopefully be on the mend.   
  
"What about Simon...?" She asked, wincing at the thought of encountering  
  
him while poised to leave.   
  
"Don't worry about him. When was the last time he came to bed with you anyway?   
  
He practically lives in the labs and library. You yourself told me that he  
  
hasn't spent a night in bed with you for almost a month now. I doubt he'll  
  
even notice you're gone until he comes round to fetch you for more   
  
injections. By then we'll be long gone." Vincent kissed her again, and got to his  
  
feet.  
  
"Remember, be down there by midnight. Then we'll go." He took her hand in his and   
  
gazed into her eyes. "You will not regret this Lucrecia. I will make you the happiest  
  
woman alive," His eyes then shifted to her midsection and he placed his hand there gently, as if trying to reassure the unborn child within her as well.   
  
"And when the baby is born I swear I will love it as my own.   
  
God, I love you so very much..." He knelt to kiss her hand, his warm breath  
  
tickling her pleasantly.   
  
"I'll be there... no matter what, I'll be there." She said, taking advantage of his lower  
  
position to lock him in a kiss herself. They stayed like that for several moments,  
  
neither one wanting to let go, as sweet as the kiss was. It was finally  
  
Vincent who gently pulled away, standing back up and walking to the door.  
  
"I'll see you then, Lucrecia..." Then he turned and walked away, shutting the door securely  
  
behind him. She sat there for a moment, and then slowly got to her feet and went to the  
  
closet to find a bag that would hold everything she needed...  
  
***  
  
Vincent was giddy with happiness as he made his way back to his post.  
  
Midnight would come in but a few short hours, and then they could  
  
go on to their new life together. The disappearing part would not  
  
be easy, but he was confident they could manage. He had indeed seen people  
  
practically drop of the face of the earth a few times in his short  
  
life, so he knew it to be possible.   
  
They could forge new identities and hopefully keep the ShinRa at bay.  
  
Vincent knew his disappearance would not cause much outcry, but Lucrecia...  
  
He had no doubt that they would stop at nothing to get her back, what with   
  
all the gil and effort that had been sunk into the project.   
  
He'd planned to make for Icicle Inn. That was surely far enough away  
  
and secluded enough to start over again in. And perhaps they  
  
would only have to stay there a while, and when the search was over  
  
they could go to a less cold altitude. It might take a while, but the  
  
ShinRa would eventually consider the matter to be a cold case and  
  
hopefully abandon it.   
  
Everything was turning out the way he'd hoped it would.   
  
He was rounding the corner to the library when something, or more   
  
specifically, someone stopped him dead in his tracks.  
  
"You're looking rather cheerful tonight, Turk." That cold monotone  
  
bit into him as he found himself staring into the face of Lucrecia's  
  
husband, Simon Hojo. "Been engaging in the typical Turk pastime  
  
of drinking and whoring?"  
  
Vincent bit his lip. He would love to tear into the man, but sometimes  
  
discretion was the better part of valor. He couldn't put their  
  
flight into jeopardy, not now.  
  
"You know I've never liked you." Blunt and to the point as always.   
  
"...it comes with the territory." He replied, not really giving a damn  
  
what the scientist thought. Why couldn't he just go back to his research  
  
and leave him be? Professor Hojo was the last person he wanted to even look at  
  
right now, let alone listen to.   
  
"I suppose so. I guess you're rather used to dislike. You obviously have no problems  
  
sleeping at night. Especially when you have my wife warming your bed." His eye  
  
twitched dangerously on that last piece, although his face remained cold and  
  
expressionless.  
  
Vincent did a double take at that. Without even thinking he had the scientist  
  
by the collar of his starched white coat and was snarling threats in his face.  
  
"You sick bastard fuck, what the hell am I supposed to do?! You treat her like nothing  
  
more than one of your petri-dishes! Of course I am going to go to her, she deserves  
  
so much better than a sadistic monster like you! Do you even look at her?!  
  
Do you even see the things you're doing to her all in the name of your  
  
damned project?!" With that he slammed Hojo into one of the many bookshelves  
  
that lined the walls of the room.   
  
To his credit, the scientist never made a sound. He simply reached into the   
  
side pocket of his labcoat and withdrew a small pistol that he kept  
  
handy for escaped specimens. He pulled the hammer back, and two shots   
  
rang out.   
  
Vincent let go immediately and slumped backwards with a small cry. He put a hand  
  
to his chest and was dismayed to have it come away red. His lung, he guessed   
  
from the sick whooshing sound that came as he forced breath in.   
  
Hojo looked at him impassively, and laid the gun down on the bookshelf.  
  
It had taken no skill at all to hit him when was less that two feet away.   
  
He stood there a long moment, watching the Turk sink to the ground and   
  
struggle to breathe.   
  
Not more than a few moments had passed, but to Vincent it seemed like an eternity.  
  
Blood was pooling and spilling from his mouth, and he was   
  
definitely done for. He would die here in this dusty,   
  
book-filled room with no one but the man who'd killed him there in   
  
his last moments. He thought of Lucrecia, and how she would never escape this place  
  
now. It brought fresh tears to his eyes, and he couldn't help but sob as much as it  
  
wracked him to do so.  
  
Hojo knelt beside him now and was assessing the damage. He couldn't help  
  
but wonder what was streaming through the Turk's mind. He'd heard stories  
  
of how life would flash before the eyes of someone on the brink of  
  
dying. Vincent was barely  
  
conscious now, and looked like he might pass out at any moment.   
  
"It won't be long. You'll go into shock and from there you'll die." He said   
  
quietly, not expecting an answer from the Turk. Surely enough, his face whitened  
  
and his skin cold he passed out, leaving Hojo alone to deal with this.  
  
Hojo had always been possessed with grace under fire, it was a necessary  
  
trait in his line of work. He already knew the problem, and how to fix it.   
  
Punctured lungs were not fun, but they could be repaired with knowledge   
  
and speed. And he had both those things at his disposal.   
  
He swept the papers and etceteras from his desk and hefted the unconscious  
  
Turk onto the level surface. He rolled his sleeves up and made a quick trip to  
  
the supply cabinet. With all his skill and talent, he could tell  
  
even now that this would be a challenge...  
  
  
  
***  
  
Worry creased Lucrecia Hojo's face as she checked her watch for the sixth time  
  
already. Two small bags sat at her feet, filled with the few things she could not   
  
fathom leaving without. It was getting late, and she was starting to wonder if this   
  
had been such a good idea after all. He had told her that it wouldn't be easy to leave,  
  
but they could do it together. Plans had been made, and a time had been set.   
  
She had packed her bags feverishly this evening, terrified of being caught  
  
in the act by her husband. Every creak and groan of the floor set her heart pounding.  
  
A toothbrush here, and comb there and she had filled the bags with everything she   
  
needed. When she finished she'd shoved the bags under the bed to lie in the dust   
  
until it was time.   
  
She'd felt a lot like those bags lately. After all, what had she been doing   
  
with her life other than lying in the dust until it was time?   
  
She was only twenty-four, and yet she felt that her life was over.   
  
She'd felt that way for awhile now. She didn't blame it on anyone, and  
  
certainly not on her husband as most would assume. He loved her in  
  
his own way, as cold and unaffectionate as he appeared to most people.   
  
He could be very charming and sweet, when they were alone together.   
  
She had after all married him, did that not show that he was  
  
not all together ogreish?  
  
Maybe it was all her, she reasoned. Maybe it was some chemical imbalance  
  
in her brain brought on by pregnancy making her think the bizarre things that she thought. Maybe it was the weather. It could be any number of seemingly  
  
trivial things, and the origin didn't really matter after all. All she   
  
only knew that the things in her head of late frightened her.  
  
The voices...Ugh...  
  
They set off some primordial fear in her, made her feel like choking  
  
and crying and bleeding and dying. She would sink into sepia swirl and  
  
never come out the better for it.   
  
They seemed so real, so crushing...  
  
And they never got better; they hissed and pricked her night and day, leaving her with sweat-drenched sleepless nights and blearily numb days.   
  
Vincent had promised everything would be better, but he didn't know what she was  
  
really going through. He'd only noticed that she looked and felt like shit, and as always was quick to blame it on Simon. She only hoped that he was right,  
  
that this would all disappear as soon as they were away from the oppressive  
  
shadow of this mansion and away from the sharp hollow points of the numerous   
  
needles.   
  
She checked her watch again. One-fifty. Dear God, where could he be?   
  
He'd never broken even the most trivial promises to her, and this was  
  
indeed the first time he'd ever not been true to his word.  
  
Perhaps something had happened...  
  
Her blood ran cold at the very thought.   
  
'creaaaaaaaaak...'  
  
She spun around quickly, squinting in the dim light trying to make out the dark figure approaching her. Her heart leaped at first, but quickly fluttered as she realized that it was Simon.   
  
"Going somewhere dear?" His eyes ran over the two bags at her feet and then back up to her pale face. "Planning on taking a vacation? Any place you have in mind?"  
  
Panic choked her. No words would make their way to her mouth. She could conjure no excuses   
  
or lies to cross her lips. Her hands clenched, and her head bowed she stood mutely before him.   
  
Wordlessly he bent down and picked up her bags. Casting her a cold look, he turned to walk back inside.  
  
"S-Simon..."   
  
He turned, and gave her another bone-chilling look that cut her to her core.  
  
"Fuck you," he spat, his cool exterior finally crumbling, the anger and hurt shining through clearly. "Fuck you for thinking you could run off with that hired thug. Fuck you for thinking you could just throw everything away as if it didn't matter. Fuck you," he hissed, tears coming to his brown eyes as he spoke. "And fuck me for ever caring..." And with that he turned quickly, not wanting to see the tears in his eyes and know that she'd cause them. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.  
  
She stood there outside the door for a long time, just staring into the mansion. He knew... and that meant...  
  
Oh God... Vincent...  
  
The mansions' doors gaped before her like some monsters' jaws, beckoning to her, daring her to step back inside so it could swallow her whole.   
  
She had to find out what happened. It was two in the morning now; and she knew in her heart that something was horridly wrong here.  
  
With a deep breath to steel herself, she slowly walked through the doorway, and shut the heavy oak door behind her.  
  
Perhaps it was nothing more than illusion and fatigue, but for a moment she could have sworn that the mansion laughed.  
  
::end part one:: 


End file.
